


Stars

by Sleeves



Series: Kagehina Week [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Getting to Know Each Other, Living Together, M/M, Supernatural Elements, what is this AU even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4250346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleeves/pseuds/Sleeves





	Stars

Kageyama Tobio goes to work every weekday from 9 to 5. He hunches over a keyboard sorting files and organizing spreadsheets, and when he comes home to his tiny apartment he throws together a shoddy dinner of instant curry or instant noodles, maybe even with an egg on top if he's feeling ambitious. He takes a shower, brushes his teeth, and falls asleep watching TV. Then he wakes to the shriek of his alarm the next morning to do it all over again.

Kageyama faces the day with such a degree of lethargic apathy that he doesn't realize how bitter he feels about life in general until one night when he's brooding out on his balcony, trying to remember the last time he felt truly happy. He wonders how things got this way, when he became so entrenched in such an empty cycle, what he even wants to do with his life, whether he'll be in this same place five years down the road.

He narrows his eyes against the brightness of his phone as he flicks through his contact list, passing name after name of people he hasn't spoken to in years. He gives up after a few minutes and chucks the damn thing back inside through the open balcony door. They're from a time in his life better left alone—and besides, none of those guys ever even liked him anyway. As he begins to retreat into himself, Kageyama feels those old memories bubble up despite his best efforts, painful flashbacks to all the miseries of high school and the bits of his dreams left behind in old gymnasiums. He still has nightmares about them.

He lifts his eyes to the stars, almost desperate enough to send up a wish. It's a senseless thought, but no one would hear him mumbling quietly from his balcony. Even if they could, no one would care. He lets out a shuddery breath and collects his thoughts.

The sky suddenly lights up, and as he blinks frantically into the night Kageyama sees a shooting star streaking earthward, so close he's almost tempted to reach out for it. It's heading east, and judging by how close it is, it's probably going to land somewhere near the fields that stretch along the outskirts of town. Not far from Kageyama's apartment, he realizes. Maybe just a kilometer at most. Maybe—

His heart skips as he pulls on a sweatshirt and sprints out the door, not even bothering to lock up. Something in his life needs to change, and maybe chasing after a falling star at 3AM is the perfect departure from business as usual. His legs cramp up almost instantly as he races through the empty streets—Kageyama vaguely wonders when he had gotten so out of shape—but he doesn't dare stop running. _Just keep going forward,_ he tells himself. _That's all you can do_. Maybe something good is waiting for him there, something that's pulling him along like a string attached to his chest.

_Just keep going. Something good is there._

Fields of grass stretch before him as the town opens up to the countryside. He spots a light less than a hundred meters away, glowing softly like a dying ember. Kageyama picks up his pace as his heart drills a frantic rhythm into his chest—something is pulling him in, even as the light goes out and he comes skidding to a halt in front of a _person_ sprawled naked on the ground in front of him. It's a boy with a haystack of brilliant orange hair and pale skin that looks almost sickly in the moonlight.

Kageyama staggers back a pace, still gasping for air. This isn't right. This isn't at all what he was expecting. He suddenly realizes that the boy is conscious and reaching weakly for him.

Kageyama kneels beside him, his mind racing. _What's going on who is this how did he get here what am I supposed to do should I call the police should I call an ambulance_ —

"I'm cold," the boy cuts through Kageyama's thoughts, tucking his legs to his chest. Curled up in the grass like this, he looks so small. Kageyama gently pulls him up onto his knees before hefting his sweatshirt over his head and pulling it over the orange-haired boy. It stretches down to his mid-thighs.

"Are you hurt?" Kageyama asks, smoothing out the creases in the fabric. His better judgment is telling him to run, to get the hell out of here before the police show up and arrest him for being out here under such dubious circumstances at such a suspicious time of night. But something about this boy is anchoring him here.

"No," the redhead replies, shivering a little. "Just cold."

"Where's your home?" Kageyama asks.

"Don't have one," the boy says. Kageyama pulls the hood over the boy's mess of hair and tugs the strings taut.

"Your family?"

"Don't have one." His large brown eyes are fixed on the ground. He isn't making this any easier for Kageyama, who realizes as he searches his pants pockets that he dashed out of his apartment without his phone.

"What's your name?"

Kageyama expects another "Don't have one," but the boy finally lifts his gaze and says, "Hinata Shouyou."

 

 

Kageyama's nerves are on edge the whole time as he shuffles through the streets with Hinata leaning against him, but they make it back to the apartment without incident. He's grateful for this ungodly hour, as they encounter no one in the elevator or the hallways, and when the door to his unit is safely locked behind him, Kageyama lets out a long, deep breath. He sets Hinata down in a chair at the kitchen table and throws a blanket at him.

"All right," Kageyama demands. "What the hell's going on."

Hinata looks oddly peaceful for a guy who's just been picked up naked in a field. "I don't know."

"Are you screwing with me?" Kageyama growls, leaning in to fix Hinata with a menacing stare.

"No!" Hinata yells, something like defiance blazing in his eyes as he stares back. "I don't know!"

Silence hangs between them for a moment. Then Kageyama asks with a defeated sigh, "You really have nowhere to go?"

"Yeah," Hinata says, drawing the blankets up to his chin.

"Then you can stay here tonight if you want," Kageyama concedes as a sudden wave of exhaustion rolls over him. " _Just_ tonight."

"Thank you," Hinata breathes.

"That's it?" Kageyama asks, unnerved by Hinata's bright, unbroken gaze. "Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage of you or murder you or something?"

"You won't." Hinata smiles and swings his legs under the table. "Besides, I could ask you the same thing. You're not afraid of me either, right? Do you take strangers home often?"

"Never."

Hinata pulls the blanket up over his head so that only his face and several tufts of orange hair are left visible. "You won't hurt me."

"You don't know me," Kageyama says. "Look, I'm not as nice as you think. You can stay _for now_. The only reason I brought you here in the first place is because I wasn't about to just leave you out there in that condition."

"Thank you!" Hinata says again, more earnest this time. His eyes are glassy and wet with tears as he peers out from his blanket cocoon. "You really are—"

"Stop that. It's nothing to cry about," Kageyama grumbles. "Just don't make problems for me and clean up after yourself."

"Yes! Thank you!"

Kageyama shoves a cup of instant noodles at Hinata and gets ready for bed. If the delighted slurping coming from the kitchen is any indication, Hinata is thoroughly enjoying his crappy, half-assed dinner. It's well past 4AM when Kageyama finally rolls out his futon alongside the dusty spare that's been sitting in the back of his closet for years.

He pokes his head into the kitchen and sees Hinata tipping back the cup and shoveling the noodles into his mouth with a single chopstick.

"What the hell are you doing?" The sound of his voice makes Hinata jump.

"I thought this was for me!" Hinata tightens his grip around the styrofoam cup, holding it defensively against his chest.

"No, I mean," Kageyama walks over to him, picking up the unused chopstick and wedging it between Hinata's fingers alongside the first. "Here. You forgot something, dumbass."

"Oh!" Hinata's face brightens. "Thank you!"

He tilts the cup back again, this time using both chopsticks held together in a fist to funnel the food into his face.

"Oi! Are you foreign? Or are you just an idiot?" Kageyama pulls the cup away from Hinata's mouth, leaving the redhead with a lone noodle dangling from his lips. Hinata slurps it up and shakes his head.

"Just because I don't know something doesn't mean I'm stupid," Hinata says softly once he swallows. "Can you teach me?"

This guy—Kageyama is completely blindsided by him. He shuffles behind Hinata and stoops down, prying the chopsticks from Hinata's hand and holding them properly in his own.

"Look." He dips them into the cup and pulls up a wad of noodles. Hinata leans forward and clamps his mouth over them, slurping the noodles into his mouth.

"It's not as fast," he mumbles through his mouthful of food. He tips his head back and stares up at Kageyama as he chews.

"It's also not as disgusting. Here." Kageyama places the chopsticks back into Hinata's hand. He watches Hinata struggle with his positioning, crisscrossing the chopsticks and making frustrated noises as the noodles slip out of his grip. Kageyama decides to step in again once it's become truly pathetic. He leans down again, circling his hand around Hinata's.

As soon as he does, Hinata's head tips against his shoulder and the redhead lets out a contented little sigh. Kageyama freezes as a prickle of heat crawls up the back of his neck.

"The hell are you—" He bends down, tilting his head to get a good look at Hinata's face. He's fallen asleep.

Kageyama heaves a sigh and hefts him up, half-carrying, half-dragging him over to the bedding he's just finished laying out. It's a wonder this idiot hasn't already gotten himself killed, he thinks as he gruffly tucks Hinata in.

When Kageyama finally settles down, Hinata's eyes are open again, watching him carefully in the semi-darkness. The moonlight is muted by the curtains, but Kageyama can see Hinata's smile nonetheless.

"Hey."

"I'm not talking to you," Kageyama says flatly, pulling the blankets up over his ears.

"Tell me something about yourself," Hinata says.

" _Huh?_ "

"Please." Hinata's voice is soft, inviting. Calming. "What's your name?"

This is so ridiculous. Just over an hour ago everything had been normal—shitty, but normal. And now...

He lets out a long sigh through his nose.

"Kageyama Tobio."

 

 

It's a lucky thing the next day is Saturday, because Kageyama isn't able to drag his tired ass out of bed until half past 10. The first thing he sees is Hinata, lying with his limbs all askew and his mouth hanging open. He watches the gentle rise and fall of Hinata's chest for a few minutes, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it hadn't all been a dream, that he really did let some strange guy sleep in his apartment after all.

He actually makes breakfast today—omurice, which for some reason he gets the feeling Hinata would enjoy. Kageyama sets Hinata's place with a spoon and goes to wake up his new houseguest, but Hinata is already sitting up in his mess of blankets. He tips his head all the way back at the sound of Kageyama's footsteps, smiling at him upside-down.

"It smells so good!"

Kageyama jerks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "It's for you. Go get it."

Hinata looks as though he might cry. He begins in a wobbly voice, "You really are—"

"Don't. Just go eat."

Kageyama grabs his laptop and sits down at the kitchen table. Thankfully, Hinata seems to know how to use a spoon, although he somehow ends up with ketchup on his nose and bits of rice scattered on the table around him. Kageyama keeps half an eye on Hinata while he searches the internet for recent reports of missing persons, watching the redhead pick up the stray grains one by one and pop them into his mouth.

"Is Hinata Shouyou your real name?" Kageyama asks, typing it into a person finder.

"Mm-hmm!" Hinata bounces up and circles around the table to Kageyama's side, peering over his shoulder at the screen. "What are you looking at? Is that a lost and found for people?"

"Sort of," Kageyama says.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"I'm checking to see if anyone's looking for _you_."

"No one is looking for me," Hinata says with a little frown.

"Hm. Are you a minor?"

Hinata shakes his head.

"Bullshit. Prove it."

"How?" Hinata flings out his arms. "I have nothing to show you! Why can't you just believe me?"

"I'm going to call the police and report you as missing," Kageyama announces, pulling out his phone.

"No!" Hinata makes a grab for the phone, snatching it out of Kageyama's hand and bounding over to where his bedding is still scattered everywhere. "No one is looking for me! I'm nobody, all right? _Nobody_."

Kageyama runs a hand through his hair. This guy obviously had his reasons for wanting to stay under the radar, but judging by the fervor of his response, they could be dangerous ones.

"Do you understand the position I'm in right now?" Kageyama asks him.

"Please let me stay." Hinata clutches the phone to his chest, looking so small kneeling in his nest of blankets and wearing only Kageyama's sweatshirt. His hands are completely lost in the oversized sleeves. "Please."

"Did you run away from somewhere?" Kageyama asks, padding over and prying his phone away from Hinata, who seems to have calmed down a bit. "Are you trying to hide? Because if you're running from the law or something, that's my ass on the line too."

"I would never put you in danger," Hinata says, so earnestly that Kageyama really does believe him. "I promise."

Kageyama sighs heavily and then says, "We're going to need to get you some clothes."

He lends Hinata his smallest pair of shorts and they take the train to the nearest department store, Kageyama waiting until Hinata is out of earshot before making the call.

"Well, you're right," he says, pocketing his phone as Hinata pops out of the fitting room, showing off a new pair of jeans. "No one is looking for you."

"Huh?" Hinata bristles. "Are you kidding me? You did it anyway!"

"They're going to call me back if they get any reports matching your description," Kageyama continues, "but until that happens, you can stay."

"I thought we trusted each other," Hinata grumbles, turning away and slamming the changing room door behind him.

"Why the hell would I trust you?" Kageyama calls after him. "I've known you for less than a day, and I know _nothing_ about you."

"That's because you won't listen when I tell you things!" Hinata yells back. "Stop being so stubborn. I have no reason to hide anything from you."

There's a minute or so of silence, broken only by the rustle of fabric behind the door. Then Hinata's voice filters through softly, "Thank you for letting me stay."

 

 

"Tell me something else," Hinata asks that night, once they've settled in. "How old are you?"

"What, is this going to become a daily thing?" Kageyama makes a face. Then he says, "Twenty-four."

A surprised little whoop of a laugh tumbles out of Hinata's mouth.

"And how old are _you_ , fifteen?" Kageyama snaps, feeling his ears heat up.

Hinata gives him a cheeky smile. "Not telling."

"How come you're the only one who gets to ask questions, smartass?"

"You shouldn't be so rude to a houseguest," Hinata says coyly, dodging the pillow Kageyama throws at his head.

 

 

Kageyama has his reservations about leaving Hinata alone in the apartment when he goes to work on Monday morning, but when he comes home he finds Hinata quietly watching a cooking show on TV, and nothing seems to be broken. It's actually a nice feeling to have someone to greet him when he comes home, though he doesn't mention it to Hinata, who chatters excitedly about everything he watched that day as they eat dinner. It's almost endearing, the way his eyes fill with wonder as he describes such mundane things like the life cycle of a frog or how batteries are made.

For the first several days, Kageyama likens Hinata's presence to the adoption of an overly energetic puppy, with the two important distinctions being that Hinata seems to like him more than most animals, and that Hinata is housebroken.

Honestly, Kageyama doesn't really mind him as much as he thought he would.

After a week has gone by, Hinata shyly asks if he can leave the apartment during the day, so Kageyama gives him the spare key. He gets the feeling that Hinata has very little experience being out in the world—not that Kageyama, practically a shut-in himself, does either. He instructs Hinata to look before crossing the street and not to go anywhere with strangers ("You mean like you?" Hinata responds with a teasing smile).

It's strange, how the days don't seem to crawl by like they used to.

 

 

"What's your favorite food?" Hinata asks as they lie in the dark together. It's been almost two weeks, and he still hasn't stopped with his nightly questions.

"Pork curry," Kageyama murmurs sleepily. "With an egg on top."

When Kageyama comes home the next day, the apartment smells like singed hair, there are eggshells and curry packets scattered all over the counter, and Hinata is standing with his hands on his hips in front of a heaping plate of pork curry with about five eggs on top.

"I'm earning my keep," he declares proudly.

"No, you're causing me problems and not cleaning up after yourself," Kageyama tells him. All the same, the curry is delicious.

 

 

"Favorite sport?"

"Pass," Kageyama mumbles into his pillow.

"You can't pass!"

"My house, my rules."

"This isn't even a house," Hinata points out. "And you don't even own it, you rent—"

Kageyama glares at him. "If it's not good enough for you, you're welcome to see yourself out."

But Hinata stays, and Kageyama starts to wonder just how long he'd meant by "for now." Hinata has begun to feel less like a guest and more like a permanent fixture—not that Kageyama really minds all that much. He's stopped counting the weeks. He still has the old nightmares, but more often than not his dreams are colored in orange and littered with falling stars.

 

 

Some days Kageyama wakes up with Hinata next to him, rolled up like a burrito in his mound of blankets and sleeping peacefully, his soft huffs of breath tickling against Kageyama's neck. If Hinata were awake, maybe Kageyama would shove him away. Maybe Kageyama would scold him for not minding his own space, for being such a sloppy idiot. But he usually slings a begrudging arm around the redhead instead, who's so strangely calm and stationary in sleep that Kageyama finds it hard not to stare.

Today is one of those days.

He'd forgotten to close the blinds the night before, and the bands of sunlight streaming into the room cause him to stir well before his alarm. His eyes flutter open at the onslaught of light, and he glares over at the window as though its existence is a personal offense. He has half a mind to get up, but Hinata's face is pressed against his shoulder, his mouth open and his mess of hair catching and amplifying the sunshine. They've both shed their blankets over the course of the night, and Hinata's body is pressed right up against him with his small fist resting on Kageyama's stomach, curled into the fabric of his shirt. Kageyama's chest tugs, so abnormally full of softness and warmth. It's so full of Hinata, and it's overwhelming.

Then Hinata's eyes open slowly. For a moment he looks like a lost sleepwalker who has just regained consciousness somewhere far away from bed, but even as he seems to realize his current situation, the close proximity does nothing to faze him. He gazes blearily up at Kageyama, and then a hazy smile forms on his lips. His eyes slip shut again, and he snuggles his head into Kageyama's neck, mumbling a very sleepy, "Mornin.'"

Kageyama thanks every deity in existence that he left those blinds open, that he didn't make the grave mistake of sleeping through this. Most days are good days now, but Kageyama finds the ones that begin with mornings like these always turn out to be the best.

 

 

"Favorite color?"

Kageyama hasn't really considered this one—who the hell cares about something like that? He hesitates, studying Hinata for a moment as Hinata stares back patiently, his hair catching the moonlight.

"Orange."

 

 

"Tell me something you've never told anyone," Hinata whispers. Their futons are closer than usual tonight, and Kageyama notices for the first time that Hinata's deep brown irises are studded with tiny specks of gold.

"I'll get back to you on that one," Kageyama says a little breathlessly, just in time to stop himself from saying something truly stupid.

 

 

Kageyama is cleaning up the apartment one Saturday evening when he finds his old volleyball buried in a large cardboard moving box. He picks it up and spins it slowly, gazing wistfully at the panels, taking in each little scuff. He'd almost forgotten how perfect it felt in his hands.

"What's that?"

Kageyama's spine goes rigid and he almost drops the ball as he whips around to find Hinata standing there watching him.

"It's nothing," Kageyama says, placing the ball back in the box—just an old souvenir from a closed chapter in his life. Hinata doesn't press him further, but Kageyama can tell by his eyes that Hinata is filing this moment away as something important.

It's only when they're falling asleep that Hinata brings it up again, his inevitable question of the day.

"Kageyama?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you leave every day to go do something that makes you so unhappy?" Hinata asks.

"That's how life works," Kageyama replies. "I have to go to work to earn money so I don't get kicked out of my apartment."

"But you don't want to go to work," Hinata says.

Kageyama turns his head to get a good look at him. "Nobody wants to go to work."

"That's not really it, though," Hinata muses. "Not all of it. The reason why you're so sad—it's not about what you don't want. It's about what you _do_ want. Right?"

_Don't._ Kageyama's eyes are misty, as though he's trying to view Hinata through a veil. He's terrified to revisit that chapter, to tear open those old wounds, but Hinata seems determined to pry it all out of him.

Hinata leans in very close. "What _do_ you want to do?" he asks, so softly that Kageyama has to strain his ears.

Kageyama blinks, but his vision only gets blurrier—he wants the squeak of shoes on parquet floors, the weight of the ball against his fingers, the thrill of anxiety and adrenaline pounding in his chest—and suddenly the words are tumbling out of him.

"I want to play volleyball," he says through choked sobs. "I want to play volleyball."

Hinata props himself up on his elbow and reaches out, clasping one small hand over Kageyama's. It's shameful, the way his body shakes and his throat chokes out desperate little wails, but crying in front of Hinata is somehow okay. And Hinata lets him, patiently rubbing circles on the back of Kageyama's hand with his thumb. He only speaks up once Kageyama's sobs turn to soft sniffles, once Kageyama can finally bring himself to look at Hinata through the tears still clinging to his eyelashes.

"Kageyama." Hinata's small, kind smile feels like a kick in the chest as he gives Kageyama's hand a light squeeze. "Let's play volleyball."

 

 

"I was a setter," Kageyama tells him. They're standing in the very same field where they first met. "It's like the control tower for the team. The setter sends tosses to the spikers, who hit the ball to score. It's the setter's job to match the spikers, to connect with each player individually, and to give each of them the best toss—but I didn't understand that. For me, nobody ran fast enough. Nobody jumped high enough. And eventually they stopped jumping altogether."

Hinata doesn't speak, but his eyes are attentive and encouraging.

"They called me an egotistical king," Kageyama continues, dropping his gaze again. "Then in high school... I didn't get into my first choice school, but I was still excited to play volleyball. It was going to be a new start."

The words are falling faster now, pouring out of him, and Kageyama realizes these are all things he's never told anyone before. But something about Hinata is drawing them out in a cathartic burst, and he presses on, "But I wasn't any different. I still thought I could do everything myself. It was only after we got knocked out of the inter-high in the very first round, three years in a row, that I realized I couldn't."

He squeezes the ball tightly. "I wanted to stand on top of the world, but I failed. I got nowhere. I hated myself, I hated my team. I hated volleyball."

"You didn't," Hinata finally pipes up. Kageyama has been staring down at the ball this whole time, and when he looks up, he sees Hinata pointing at it. "You kept that all this time. You didn't hate it."

Kageyama's eyes are stinging again, but he's had enough of crying today.

"You really love volleyball, don't you, Kageyama?" Hinata's light steps are muted by the soft grass as he moves closer and puts his hands on top of Kageyama's. "Teach me."

"What?"

"Teach me how to play. Teach me how to love volleyball." Hinata's voice is still gentle but earnest as he stares determinedly into Kageyama's eyes. "I'll play with you every day. I'll hit all your tosses. I'll run the fastest, I'll jump the highest—"

The ball hits the ground with a soft thud as Kageyama flings his arms around Hinata, pulling the smaller boy to his chest and burying his face in Hinata's hair. His heart is beating so fast, his eyes are wet again, and something beautifully painful is blooming inside his chest, as though the pieces of some old discarded thing are being sewn up again.

"Hinata," is all he can say in a tiny, broken voice, as two warm arms wrap around his waist.

 

 

"We really need to work on your receives," Kageyama says as he pulls up the blankets and rolls over to look at Hinata. They've been at it for two weeks so far with no noticeable improvements. He closes his eyes and picks apart Hinata's form, visualizing the way Hinata places his legs, bends his knees, extends his arms. Kageyama's mind starts to wander—Hinata's receives may be lacking, but his jumps are incredible. He traces the arch of Hinata's back, the determination in his face as his arm swings forward, the way his shirt rides up and exposes a tiny sliver of his stomach, the satisfying smack as he connects with the ball. Kageyama catches himself smiling. Nothing feels better than when Hinata hits his tosses.

"Kageyama?" He opens his eyes to find Hinata staring intently at him.

"Yes," Kageyama prompts. He looks forward to Hinata's questions now. He wants Hinata to know everything about him.

"Are you happy?"

The question catches him by surprise, and Kageyama feels something tug in his chest. He feels at home, he feels overwhelmed, he feels bright, he feels full.

He answers, almost breathlessly, "Yes."

 

 

The faucet squeaks as Kageyama turns the knob and fumbles blindly for his towel. With the sound of the rushing water now out of his ears, he can hear the excited little noises coming from the other room as Hinata watches an old volleyball tape they uncovered in his box of junk.

As he lowers the towel from his face he gets a good look at himself in the mirror, and Kageyama realizes he's smiling.

"Did you know we're all made of stars?" Hinata says that night as they lie side by side, gazing at the ceiling.

"Is that supposed to be poetry?" Kageyama looks over at him.

"No, I saw it on the TV today," Hinata says, sitting up with his eyes wide and bright. "When stars die...they explode, and they send out all these little pieces of themselves, all these different elements flying across the universe, like _btoom, whoosh!_ " He spreads out his arms.

"I'm made of stars, and you're made of stars." Kageyama's heart does a little flip as Hinata smiles at him and says, "You know, I think that's really amazing."

 

 

They've fallen into such a comfortable life together that Kageyama instantly suspects something is wrong when one summer evening there's no cheerful "Welcome home!" to greet him when he steps through the door. He wanders around the apartment in a stupor, checking the kitchen area, the bathroom, the tiny closet. There are only so many places a person can hide in such a small apartment.

"Hinata," he says, mostly to himself, as he pulls open all the cupboards. The apartment feels so dark and empty without him, as though all the light has been drained out of it. The silence rings loud in Kageyama's ears as he tries not to panic.

He's contemplated for a while why Hinata dropped so suddenly into his life, like it was his job to fix Kageyama, to make him see everything differently. Things have turned around since he showed up, a tiny glowing ember that blew down Kageyama's doors and poured light into all the empty cracks in his life. The world is brighter, Kageyama is brighter, and everything around him seems to have the shine polished back into it. He thinks about things very hard, contemplating every hint Hinata might have dropped along the way as he totters out onto the balcony and watches the sun drop low in the sky. Things are better now, thanks to Hinata—and maybe that means Hinata's work is done. Maybe Kageyama is supposed to step back into the world on his own, carrying everything Hinata's given him.

Kageyama finds himself standing alone in their field as night falls. The fireflies blink at him. The wind catches his hair. He pulls off his shoes and sinks his feet into the grass, takes a deep breath and fills his lungs with the thick summer air. He tips back his head, gazing skyward and tracing constellations. He feels alive.

He's so focused on counting the stars that he doesn't notice the soft footfalls behind him. Then two sturdy arms circle around his waist and a small, warm body presses up against his back.

"Hinata," he whispers. He wants to say that name over and over until he's dizzy and out of breath.

"I knew you would be here." Hinata's voice is muffled in the fabric of Kageyama's shirt. "What are you thinking about?"

"Losing you," Kageyama says. He has no reason to lie.

" _Dumbass_ ," Hinata says in a horrible imitation of Kageyama that almost startles a laugh out of him. Then he slips back to his familiar cheerful lilt, "I'm right here, you know!"

Kageyama dips his head, but doesn't say anything.

"Why would you think about that, Kageyama," Hinata murmurs, nuzzling his head in between Kageyama's shoulder blades. "I told you. I'm going to play volleyball with you every day."

Kageyama swallows the lump in his throat, still not trusting himself to speak. All he can do is nod.

"I was busy all day setting it up and lost track of the time," Hinata tells him, gently letting go of Kageyama and circling around to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry I wasn't home for dinner. I didn't mean to make you worry. If I had known I would have left a note or someth—"

"Don't," Kageyama says, wrapping his arms around Hinata without bothering to ask just what exactly Hinata spent his whole day setting up. "Don't apologize."

Hinata leans his head into Kageyama's chest and allows himself to be held.

"You were my wish," Kageyama says as Hinata's hair tickles his face. "Right?"

Hinata laughs into his chest. "Kageyama...it took you three months?"

"Just because I don't know something doesn't mean I'm stupid," Kageyama grumbles, running his hand along Hinata's spine to the small of his back. He pulls him in closer. "It's not like I wished for some random guy to show up naked in a field, you know."

"Well, then what _did_ you wish for?" Hinata gently tilts his head up.

After a moment's hesitation, Kageyama says, "I wished to be happy."

"Were you happy when you found me in this field?"

"No!" Kageyama says at once. "God, no. I was confused and scared as hell. Probably the most scared I've ever been. And definitely _not_ happy."

"Yeah." Hinata's smile is brilliant in the soft evening light. "That's the thing about wishes. They don't just come true out of nowhere. You can't just sit there and only hope. You need to _do_ something to _make_ them come true."

The little flecks of gold in his eyes are so bright, and his pupils are blown wide as though trying to absorb as much of Kageyama as they can.

"You helped yourself, Kageyama. I mean...I guess you could say I gave you an opportunity. But _you_ ran out and found me. You took me in. You let me eat your food and sleep under your roof. You fought with me. You got to know me. You fell in love with me. _You_ did that. I was just here to root for you and give you a kick in the right direction."

"I never said I fell in love with you," Kageyama says, sounding strained.

"And just so you know, I'm planning to stay. Like—forever. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. So never worry again, okay?" Hinata lifts his hands up, threading his fingers in Kageyama's hair. "Besides, I kind of love you too, you know."

"I never said I—"

"So are we going or what?" Hinata springs out of the arms around him, grabbing onto Kageyama's hands. "I have a surprise for you."

Hinata doesn't let go once as he leads Kageyama back into the street, past the apartment complex, and to a large dirt lot near the local high school, illuminated by the moon and a handful of streetlights.

"There are _people_ here?" Kageyama leans down to murmur in Hinata's ear as they round the corner. "I already don't like it."

"Don't be rude," Hinata whispers back.

Then Kageyama notices something other than the people congregated there. There are lines drawn in the ground, carefully measured out and chalked into the dirt, two perfect 9x9 meter squares divided by a net rigged up in the center.

" _Oh_ ," he breathes as he counts up the people—ten of them, twelve including Hinata and himself.

Hinata clears his throat.

"This is Mrs. Sonoda—she lives two doors down from you but you probably don't know her because you don't talk to _anyone_ ," Hinata says. "Did you know she was her team's ace back when she was in high school? And she makes the best sweet potato muffins in the _entire_ universe. And this is Mr. Aizawa. Did you know he was a high school volleyball _coach?_ He helped me set up today—oh, _and_ he offered me a job at his shop! I'll be starting next week so you won't be able to call me a freeloader anymore! And this is Takashi and Akira and Kaito—they're from the neighborhood association, Takashi has this incredible jump serve so I hope you're ready for that—"

Hinata introduces each of them, and all Kageyama can do is mumble soft, stunned, "Nice to meet you"s and wonder how the hell Hinata knew all these people. As though reading his mind, Hinata says once he finishes all his introductions, "What? You didn't think I sat in the apartment and watched TV all day, did you?" He grins up at Kageyama. "Hey, hey! Let's show them our quick strike. I can't wait to try it out in a real 6-on-6!"

Still momentarily stunned, Kageyama can only stare at him as his mind clicks away, furiously trying to churn out words. His silence seems to unsettle Hinata, who falters and shuffles his feet a bit. "It's not like the big gymnasiums you told me about, but..."

"It's perfect," Kageyama finally manages, scooping Hinata into his arms. Even more so than usual, he feels overwhelmed, he feels bright, he feels full, and he feels complete.

 

 

Kageyama Tobio goes to work every weekday from 9 to 5. He ducks his head and smiles whenever his phone buzzes with a text from Hinata (who's still figuring out how to use the thing), and when he comes home to Hinata's welcoming shout he has two helpings of whatever delicious meal Hinata has cooked, maybe even three if he's feeling ambitious. He runs out to the field with Hinata as dusk settles and the skyline becomes dotted with fireflies, and the two of them spend hours practicing quicks and working on Hinata's terrible receives until they wear themselves out and end up sprawled in the grass together. He takes a shower, brushes his teeth, and falls asleep with Hinata curled in his arms. Then he wakes to the gentle tickle of Hinata showering his face with soft kisses the next morning to do it all over again.


End file.
